A Different Kind of Groupie
by Cececat
Summary: In March 1969, Laura "Columbia" Trent sees the Doors play a chaotic show in Miami. This inspires her to run away with her best friend Barbara. Together the girls become rock groupies and meet a variety of interesting people. Definitely starts pre-movie. Eventual Eddie/Columbia. (Please Read & Review!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

 **A/N: If you ask me, RHPS takes place in 1974. That means this story will probably take place over five years. I wonder how long it will take to write. Hopefully not too long. The first two-thirds of the story will be about "Columbia" (aka Laura Trent) and a variety of original characters. There will be lots of road trips and such, so I might end up adding in some Rocky/Shocky-related cameos.  
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 **Anyway, I hope people enjoy this.  
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3/1/1969

Dear Diary,

I've never done this before. My life has always been so painfully boring, so I never felt the need to write anything down. All I ever did most of the time was wake up, eat breakfast, got to school, hang out at the park with my best friend Barbara, eat dinner, and the go to sleep. Nothing ever changed. To make matters worse, everyone I know is astoundingly boring.

Well, not Barbara. That's whats so awesome about her. She's pretty... out-there. Most days she'll wear a big, flowy, off-white peasant blouse and a long, patterned, ethnicky looking skirt. When she wasn't barefoot she wore old, navy-blue rain boots. When we were in seventh grade she mod-podged a few dried daises to them. Only Barb would think of something like that. Still, it was cool. She can pull that kind of stuff off. I can't. Of course, my parents would never even let me do anything like that... even if it looked 'right'.

My parents are total squares. Dad works at the local band all day long. Mom spends her time cooking, cleaning, and reading old Agatha Christie novels. Neither of them swear or listen to rock music. I have to hide my records sometimes to keep them from getting 'taken away'. Barb, who believes that their censorship crushes creativity, often helps. Her parents are way better. They're artists that dress all nature-y and never eat meat. Also, they don't go to church. Instead they practice an Eastern Religion of some kind. It's really interesting. If I tried telling mom about all the statues they've got... well, she'd be furious. How narrow minded my parents are! They need to learn to be accepting of other cultures. Mom wouldn't even _try_ the Indian food Barb made for her one time. They're both so uptight and racist an backwards and _boring._

Perhaps I should've started writing a diary years ago. Writing this down makes me feel a bit less angry. Of course, that isn't the point. I didn't start this journal for therapeutic reasons. I started it because my life isn't boring anymore. Things have begun happening and I must write them down.

Not five hours ago I drove to Miami with Barb and her older brother George. Somehow, Barb had gotten tickets to see the Doors. (I told mom I was going to a lecture at a nearby university). Like everyone else in the universe, we'd all heard Light My Fire on the radio a million times over the past few years. Personally I preferred some of the songs off of _Strange Days_ (mostly People Are Strange).

The concert venue was apparently a sort of ex-airport... I think. I'm not really sure. I do know that we ended up standing pretty near the edge of the stage. That meant we could see the band pretty well.

Sadly, the singer arrived about an hour late. To make matters worse he was drunk out of his mind. Yet there still was something beautiful about him. Though he'd gained a bit of weight and his fair, youthful face was hidden behind a beard he was still Jim Morrison. _The_ Jim Morrison! It didn't matter that I was surrounded by hundreds of other strange, sweaty, tired young people. The Lizard King was practically within arm's reach.

Of course, he was a bit barbaric. Jim cursed at us all, the expressed feelings of deep love, then started swearing again, then sang a bit more, and so on. He hated and adored us (and vice versa).

He spoke of love and revolution. He told us that we should be dancing, rather than merely standing there. Commanding and screaming and condemning, he looked like a mad God (the beard and peasant shirt certainly helped). He was a modern Dionysus with a backing band. Something about his intensity mesmerized me. Even though he drunk out of his mind and clearly messing with everyone, he had _power_. Charm. Jim was dangerous and profane. I'd never seen anything like it. There was all this emotion and intensity and I didn't know where to put it so I started crying.

At some point someone poured a glass of something on him. That's when he took of his shirt... and things really started to go downhill. The crowd looked ready to riot. Barbara grabbed by hand and, without a word, began to pull me through the wild crowd. George followed close behind.

Finally, we found ourselves in the parking lot again. In silence we got into George's car and began driving away.

"I think the Lizard King was trying to induce a riot," Barb said quietly.

"He _may_ have succeeded," George replied darkly.

And then there was silence. Nobody knew what to say. At least the drive wasn't too long.

When I got home it wasn't too late, mercifully. Mother was waiting for me in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading _Third Girl_.

"Did you learn anything?" she asked, without looking up.

"Yes." But did I really?

"Good."

Without further ado I made my way upstairs. I couldn't let myself stand there in the kitchen for much longer. All these thoughts and feelings and memories from the concert were bound to burst out at any moment. If Mom knew where I'd really been she'd be horrified. There's nothing worse than fighting with one's own mother...

Anyway, that's when I decided to start keeping a diary. My aunt gave me this notebook for Christmas last year and I'd apparently put it in my desk without much thought. It's a wonder I didn't just throw it away.

Hopefully more interesting things will happen so. For some reason, I feel like that concert was the start of an adventure.

\- Laura Trent, age 16

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_.**

 **A/N: This chapter is shorter than the first one. Hopefully that's alright!  
Here we learn that Laura/Columbia greatly admires weirdness. She also hates boredom and dreams of adventure. Perhaps this is why she so quickly ran off with Frankie, as mentioned in the Time Warp. Everything in this story slowly builds up to that. I'm probably going to have her fall in love with a semi-sociopathic 'Proto-Frank' at some point. Maybe it'll be more than one. I feel like she should have been in similar (if less extreme) relationships before.  
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 **Speaking of sociopaths... I'm starting to fear that Laura/Columbia sounds at bit like one. This is not so. She just has very strong opinions and lots of ideas. Also, she loves Barb very dearly.**

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4/3/1969

Dear Diary,

Today, at lunch, I had the most exciting conversation with Barb. We always sit together, you know. I think a lot of the other kids are secretly jealous. Surely they admire Barb's bold 'be yourself' attitude, though I'm sure they also fear her. Many grown-ups consider her a danger to Good Christian Values. Their children understand this on a subconscious level. This is why they did not spend time with her - they feared her influence might harm them. Probably. Maybe than genuinely didn't like her. Given how awesome she is... well, how can anyone _not_ love a girl like that?

I certainly liked her. Especially after that concert she (well, her brother) took me to over the weekend. That was fascinating - it really was. I told her so as we ate our sandwiches (tuna salad on Wonder Bread for me, cucumbers and lettuce on whole wheat for her) today.

"Live music is always exciting. It brings people together," she replied.

"When's the next show?" I asked, quite eagerly.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. There are concerts all the time, all over the world. Some are more dangerous than others."

"Will we get to see another one soon?"

"If George can get tickets."

Then, there was a pause. I glanced around at all our boring classmates. The grey lunchroom with it's blinding florescent lights hummed with not-so-lively conversation. So many of these kids would grow up to be accountants or housewives. They'd conform to society's expectations and lose their very personalities. It made me want to stand up on one of the rickety old tables and scream. I wished I could tell them to follow whatever crazy dreams they had. Of course, they wouldn't listen no matter how hard they tried. One girl's lonely voice doesn't do any good.

"We should run away," I said, quietly.

"Where would we go?"

"Wherever the music is."

"So... New York City or California." She frowned. "Why?"

"Saturday night was amazing. I'd never seen anything like that. Jim was so charming, yet also so antagonistic. I loved and hated and worshiped him. Now I feel the desperate need to experience that again. We must escape this town together. Do your parents have any artsy friends anywhere? You know, some that might know more about rock n roll? Or at least be able to help us?"

Barb nodded slowly. "In New York. Though that's a dangerous place. Why can't we turn on, tune in, and drop out here? George knows where to get some good psychedel-"

"Sitting still and getting stoned isn't the solution. You smoke too much." I felt betrayed.

"Running away isn't the solution either. At least, not right away. I'd need to explain things to my parents first. I truly respect them and their beliefs. Abandoning them out of the blue would be wrong. Anyway, they might even encourage some kind of adventure."

I envied Barb's relationship with her mother and father. They support even her most outlandish ideas. From them she learned a deep and honest respect for all living creatures. My parents and I barely speak. It wasn't fair at all.

"When would we leave?" Barb asked.

"As soon as possible."

"Ans we'd go straight to New York city?

"I think so." I paused, thoughtfully. "You've already been - haven't you?"

She nodded. "Yes, at Yule a few years ago."

Being the sort of person she is, Barb doesn't celebrate Christmas. She celebrates Yule, which is basically Christmas minus the Christian imagery. Her family had been celebrating it since the late 1940s. They were hippies before hippies were even a thing.

Again, there was silence. Then I asked: "So, you think you'll do it?"

"Run away?"

I nodded solemnly. "Run away and attend as many concerts as possible. Run away and a live a far more fascinating life."

"Maybe." She sighed. "I don't have a real reason not to... or a reason _to_."

"Think of all the people we'll meet!"

"Some of those people might be dangerous."

"At least we won't be bored."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "I'll ask my parents, alright?"

People the sort of people they were, I knew they'd let their daughter go adventuring.

Traveling with my wonderfully weird best friend is going to be amazing. Really, it will be. Leaving my square parents behind won't be hard. They hate me already anyway.

After lunch nothing happened. Well, I attended a few classes and did all the other usual things. How mindless it all is. Sometimes I feel like the teachers don't even want us to learn. No, the only care about making sure we all pass the standardized tests. And don't even get me started on how biased the material is. Barb's parents' books on Eastern philosophy and Celtic mythology are far more educational. I hope their New York friends are equally well-rounded. Artists seem to be, as a rule.

Oh! I can't wait.

\- Laura Trent, age 16

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own RHPS.**

 **A/N: This chapter is really short, which is somewhat intentional. Laura/Columbia doesn't have much to say.**

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3/5/1969

Dear Diary,

Today Barb finally asked her parents about the trip. They said that it sounds like a good idea. In fact, they're willing to provide her with an allowance if she remembers to call every week. Barb offered to share that future-allowance with me. I declined, though I have begun to worry about money. How will I make a living on the road? Don't guys give cute girls stuff for free all the time? It seems likely. Even though I'm not exactly what you'd call cute I'm still young. That counts for something, right?

Of course, we still haven't decided on a date or anything.

Oh, I hope we leave soon. This town is depressing and weirdly false. People fake their ways through most social interactions. Nobody can bring themselves to say what the really feel. It makes them hard to trust. Not knowing is the worst. If they hated me and _told me_ I wouldn't mind. It's not fair at all.

\- Laura Trent, age 16

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